


Assassin's Path

by Rykiel



Category: League of Legends
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-18
Updated: 2017-11-13
Packaged: 2018-06-03 00:16:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6589060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rykiel/pseuds/Rykiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A narration of Talon's life, starting with his earliest memories and working up from there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Chance Meeting

**Author's Note:**

> Well this is a personal project. I have a lot of ideas and things to include, so it's likely going to take me a while, especially considering how important the characters are to me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sure there are mistakes and things I could've done better but for now this'll do. In a way it's a commitment to finally get around to writing this, aha..

He couldn’t help but feel that memories were insignificant. His own, at least. He’d only ever known the dark alleys he belonged to; never had he strayed, never had he been able to. With each day being so unremarkable, so indistinguishable from all the others, there was little point in reflecting upon whether something had happened days or months ago. Thinking about the past was dangerous anyway. All focus had to be on the present. There was no opportunity for anything else, if one wanted to wake up again.

He wasn’t doing a great job of that either, truth be told. Survival was a day-to-day affair; no guarantees for food or shelter or safety, and at an estimated seven years old he was struggling. Much less than he had been a few years ago, certainly, back when he’d first added stealing to the mix instead of just scavenging for leftovers; he'd since made many mistakes that nearly cost him his life. Years had seen the severity and frequency both decrease. Scavenged weapons—bits of old pipe, a brick from a building long since put into disuse—aided his cause, though nothing of quality was to be found.

Decreased didn't mean nonexistent, though. Hunger made him a fool. He’d never had much to eat, but nearly a week with nothing had left him desperate. Which had led to his current situation of sprinting down another thin alley with the sounds of heavy footsteps and even heavier breathing dogging him.

Where could he go? The original (albeit flawed) plan had been to lose the man in the cluster of alleys near his market stall, but he hadn’t counted on being noticed so soon or being followed so close. His only hope was to outrun. At least he had the streets over a large area memorized; it was easy to point himself in the right direction despite the setting sun.

When a shout rose behind him he pushed himself even harder towards his destination. Soon a recognizable corner—one that split and curved several ways—came into view. He threw himself around one side, the way that was closed off almost immediately by a wall, and flattened against it, immediately pulling on the shadows and reigning in his breath in an attempt to be silent. His grip on the loaf of bread tightened further as he waited.

The man nearly slipped over himself as he slid to a stop, narrowed, beady eyes staring at the empty fork. He swung his weapon—the boy didn’t know the name of it, but it glinted threateningly in the sparse light—in broad, blind sweeps, avoiding contact with the walls or his body by a narrow margin despite himself having slid closer to the ground. After a moment he let out a frustrated noise and stomped his way back around the corner.

Letting out a shaky breath, he waited a moment before rising and stepping away from the wall. He didn’t go two steps before a shape rounded upon him, though. How stupid he'd been, revealing himself without hearing the distinct pattern of fading footsteps. A hand rose to grip his hair— _he couldn’t move fast enough_ —and yanked him upwards onto the balls of his feet.

“I’d be an idiot to leave a dead end,” his pursuer panted, malicious grin tainting the words. Despite his situation his nose crinkled a bit at the smell issued forth alongside.  “And now I’ve got you, and you won’t be goin’ anywhere this time.”

With a sudden snarl he twisted in the merchant's grip, attempting to get loose. His efforts were only met with a laugh and a sharp edge at his throat. Even as he stilled he kept up a glare, unwilling to admit defeat.

He expected that to be the end. What he did not expect was someone to help, and certainly not in the way it happened.

All he knew was that he was glaring into the eyes of his soon-to-be-killer one moment, and the next he was staggering back with the yell of the same man playing in his ears. A glance behind him revealed a kid not much bigger than himself standing in the mouth of the alley opposite the fork, a large stone in one hand.

A second later the boy realized that he was on the receiving end of rapid gestures, and the next second had him sprinting in that direction.

It didn’t take him long to notice that he was being led somewhere. His—their pursuer was lagging behind, delayed by whatever injury the second child had caused. Soon they came upon an open hole in the ground, near the end of another passageway, which the other wasted no time in jumping down. As soon as he followed, his helper reached up and pulled one of battered cardboard boxes piled around to fit into place with practiced ease.

“Ah.. We should.. Keep going..” The voice startled him a bit, not that he showed it, but he nodded. They walked for a while in relative silence, both trying to catch their breath.

Again he was being led somewhere. He disliked not knowing his surroundings, but for now he was safe. Probably.

Eventually they entered a more open section. His helper dropped onto a crate with a sigh of relief, gesturing towards another nearby. The boy sat down with care, wondering how sturdy the things were and what was inside them.

“So.. Nice to meet you,” was how the kid decided to start. The boy stared at him in uncertainty, unsure of how to respond. He’d never really... Talked much to anyone. It didn't take long for his company to notice the lack of response; his smile turned sheepish as he changed his approach.

“Name’s Kavyn. Couldn’t let somethin’ like that slide. Guess that guy was chasin’ you cos you stole that,” he said instead, still sounding a bit breathless. The boy followed his outstretched finger to the object in his hands. In his relief he almost forgot to respond; he nodded hastily as an answer.

“So, you got a name?” Kavyn asked in a curious tone. He shook his head in place of words, already tearing the bread into more manageable portions. It was pretty hard and not in the best condition but it would taste _wonderful_.

After a moment’s hesitation he held out a piece, keeping the one that was a bit bigger for himself and ignoring the light frown on the other’s face. It disappeared quick enough anyway as he reached gratefully for the offered food.

“Well, we’ll figure something out I s’pose.” In the following silence—and after he had all but wolfed down his meal—he took the time to study both his sudden companion and the place he’d found himself in.

Kavyn himself didn’t look like anything special. His hair was messy and to his shoulders, dark brown knots framing his face. He was just as thin as the boy himself and had clothing hanging in equal tatters, dirt and grime clung to everything visible. Everything else too, most likely.

Up until then he'd avoided the sewers, overheard tales of those who had lost their lives in the depths bringing caution to his mind. They were as he’d expected they’d be. A pervasive stench filled the air, unknowable elements adding to the smell. He found that the section of tunnel they were in was boarded up on one side, making a sort of “room”. Not that there was any furniture like he supposed there would be in most actual rooms, of course. Just a few boxes, a torn and filthy blanket, and a small lantern providing minimal light.

He couldn’t complain about any of it.

Kavyn watched him all the while. There always seemed to be a smile lingering at his lips, waiting for eyes to alight on him so he could bring it out full-force. He watched the expression with slight confusion, thinking about how to move the muscles of his face to make it look like that. Wondered if he could.

“Hey, so. I’ve been thinkin’ for a while now that it would be great to have someone to work with around here, ‘n I think it would make lotsa things easier for the both of us,” Kavyn began haltingly, picking up confidence as he continued. For a moment it looked like he had more to say. Instead Kavyn took a deep breath before he extended a hand, offering a smile with it. “What d’you think?”

The boy looked at him for a long moment, pondering his situation. Would having a... Friend, be beneficial, or a burden? He supposed that at least for now it would help him with his thefts, and having a place to return to couldn’t hurt. And so he reached out, wrapping his hand around Kavyn’s in a slow and uncertain gesture. Kavyn, for his part, seemed overjoyed. He clapped a hand over the boy's own, grinning like a fool all the while.

“I’m glad, partner.”


	2. Riven

They soon worked out a somewhat functional system, where one would act as bait and the other would take their chosen prize before meeting at what Kavyn referred to as their “home base”. There, they would share whatever spoils they had gotten.

At first things went well. Combined they were much more successful than either had been alone. But there were certain problems that became evident the more time they spent together.

He found that although Kavyn presented himself in a friendly and approachable manner, the boy couldn’t bring himself to trust him. Sure, they could work together to get a job done, but he wasn’t going to leave his back turned to the other. And certain things about Kavyn had begun to grate on him less than a month into their partnership.

Kavyn was optimistic to a painful degree. And extremely talkative. It left him feeling as if he was missing something, with his own limited vocabulary and lack of skill with speech. Nevertheless, despite the small responses he only ever got, Kavyn tried to build a friendship. He wasn’t sure he could afford to have one—if either of them could, for that matter. But he played along anyway.

Not half a year had passed when they returned to find their 'belongings' missing. Tragic but unsurprising, as people were always in need of sources of both light and warmth. They got to know the tunnels a little bit better after being forced to move. They never went very far, sticking around the same area whenever they needed sleep.

They would often sit together, towards the beginning. He would listen as Kavyn wove stories out of stale air, both leaned against the walls of wherever they'd decided to spend the night. Without the light from daytime or flame, Kavyn proposed, they could imagine things better. Kavyn was quite fond of such daydreams. One of his favorites to tell was of a mouse that, through a series of trials, grew smarter and smarter. Eventually it was found by a human, who decided to give the little thing a home. Many nights were spent listening to his wistful tone as he spoke of the happiness that resulted for the mouse.

He wasn’t sure he understood that one. Who would see a small, battered creature and decide to take it with them? What if it turned on them? How did they have the resources to care for another living thing in the first place? Not that it mattered, he supposed, as Kavyn had made the whole thing up. In all likelihood it was a wish of his never to be granted, dreams of what could be keeping him from his actual life. Such distractions were pointless in the end.

And so a year passed, and another after. He stayed at the same careful distance. Kavyn’s bright disposition had begun to irritate him to the point that he would attempt to cut off their conversations. Gradually Kavyn stopped trying as often. With their numerous failures, his dissatisfaction only grew. Kavyn often got distracted during their missions, going off to do something or acting late or losing track of time as he daydreamed to the point that they missed their opportunity... It was frustrating. Almost more than he could handle.

Things grew to a sharp point three years after their first meeting. The boy stumbled back to their base, leaning against the wall for support. The blood loss was making him feel a bit dizzy. Hopefully whenever he found Kavyn he would have some sort of explanation, something that would make what had happened _worth it_.

When he got to their hideout, Kavyn had his back turned and was looking at something in his hands. The boy froze in the entryway, feeling anger rising steady in his chest; he’d waited so long for the distraction, when there was none deciding to go in by himself, because Kavyn was so {unreliable}, and here he was drifting off in his own mind again.

He watched the other for a moment. Listened to his cheerful humming. Decided that something needed to be done.

Dropping the small bag of coins seemed enough to make him turn. The quiet music was replaced with echoed clinks, and finally silence. Kavyn smiled meekly and held up his prize.

“Ah.. I know it wasn’t like we planned.. But I got these!” He offered. The boy stared, unable to find an adequate response and quite sure that forgiveness wouldn’t come easily this time. A glance at the objects revealed two blades of what [was a rather shoddy quality], but were the best he’d ever been close enough to touch (and not be hurt by).

He reached for them with a sudden burning curiosity. Kavyn handed them over without a thought, turning back again to rummage through one of the crates they'd dragged in. Probably saying something as he did so. Whatever came out of his mouth, it went unheard. His focus remained on the weapons, studying them with an odd and intense fascination. Almost mindlessly he began running his fingers along the flats and edges and indents. When he finally looked back up a decision seemed to have been made for him.

It was over in seconds; Kavyn made for a perfectly unsuspecting target. While he could feel his own clumsiness Kavyn had not expected to find the blades he'd just given away buried in his throat. He watched as a hand wrapped around the mark they left. Kavyn stumbled as he turned, eyes wide. His expression showed his surprise, but sorrow more than anything. The blood overflowed and ran over his fingers, coating everything with crimson. Looking his dying partner in the eyes, a wound he himself had caused emptying him of life, he felt the need to say something.

“...You were a terrible partner.” Was all he could suffice.

Kavyn tried to answer, but all that he could manage was a wet, choked sound. Moments later he collapsed, and the familiar brightness left him. He stood there for a while. Looking down at the corpse below him, Kavyn’s flaws seemed... Less grave. He let out a breath he hadn’t been aware he’d been holding, finally easing himself into action.

When the body—Kavyn’s body, he owed him that small bit of respect—had been dumped into the water, the boy heaved a sigh.

“You shouldn't have been born in Noxus,” he stated, quiet as the mouse in Kavyn’s story.

That night he slept aboveground for the first time in years. Not due to a heavy conscience—he regretted nothing—but more to the strangeness his absence offered. It was a while before he again ventured below and made it his "home". He was reminded of why sleeping down there had been beneficial; quite a few times he was approached by people seeking something he might have had. Coins, food, anything they could get. Made for a sort of practice with his new blades.

Then again, fighting with those much older than himself didn’t always go well. With weapons of their own, collective inexperience his main benefit, his body gained a fair amount of marks in each scuffle. Sometimes he had to turn and run to avoid sure death. Taking care of injuries presented even more difficulties, as he knew little of what to do other than tie a scrap of cloth around the area. Still, the ability to {fight back} was a satisfaction beyond any other.

One night, he had exhausted himself in attempts at thievery. Without motivation to walk the distance to the nearest sewer entrance, he'd simply slumped against the wall of an out-of-the-way alleyway to sleep. Before long he jerked awake to a loud clang. His head snapped up to meet the gaze of a crouched person, moonlight revealing little other than a dangerous glint in both in their eye and on their blade. Dark clothes hung from their wiry frame, though they seemed decidedly less torn than his own. They froze mid-step to stare at him. If they had been attempting stealth the cans and bottles littering the ground of what was essentially a bar dumping ground had ruined it.

"Well, this'll be more fun if you're awake anyway," came a near-wheeze, through lips quirked into a smirk. He shifted so that his feet were properly under himself, though he didn't want to make the first move.

There wasn't much time to wait. After a moment of staring each other down he was forced to spring upwards, knife torn from his waist and swung forward to deflect the one headed for his chest. Back a step, but the person dove after him with a grin. They'd twisted their grip to come at him again, keeping it in their right hand. He ducked forward underneath, pushed into their chest to knock them off balance and swiped out at their bicep as he passed. A curse told him he'd managed a decent hit.

Their grin had twisted into a snarl when they spun back towards him. Before he could get himself to move a fist connected with the side of his face. He stumbled backwards, lashing out at air as he blinked. Tiredness seemed to be taking its toll on him. Slowed reflexes against someone with experience would only result in disaster, so he began to turn. His idea was recognized, responded to with a blade slashing at his hip. The lunge they'd taken to land the blow ended up being their downfall, [in the literal sense]; a bottle underfoot sent them crashing to the ground. Shouted curses were all that left the alley after him, yet he took no chances and ran until he felt satisfied.

His main reason for slowing to a stop was the burning at his side. Every step jarred the wound, worse when jogging. In his tiredness he hadn't kept as good track of where he was going as usual, so he stood there panting for a moment to take stock of his surroundings. When he turned left he was greeted by the recognizable red roof of the orphanage. He stood at the opposite side of the main entrance, a fact with eased his discomfort a bit. Nothing good came out of that place.

It seemed a bad idea to settle in sight of the building. Before moving, though, he wanted to take care of what he could. A strip torn from the bottom of his shirt was the best he could do, wrapped around his waist as tight as he could get it. His fingers had begun to go numb from having them out in the open. The first time he'd sat down he'd curled up into himself to conserve warmth, though it didn't work as well as he'd like.

His body was getting insistent with its demands for sleep, eyelids and limbs heavy with exhaustion. He managed to drag himself down a nearby alley—he didn't want another run-in, somewhere more secluded was his best bet—then collapsed beside a stack of boxes. With any hope they'd help disguise his small form. He kept one hand pressed against his injury to stop any bloodflow still going. When he woke up he'd give himself a more thorough check. His mind would be clearer then. With a light sigh he leaned his head against one of the boxes, eyes finally allowed to slip closed. He drifted for a while in that position.

Woken from his light doze by the sound of footsteps, he sighed wearily and started gathering himself onto the balls of his feet once more, prepared to flee. A dismayed yell caused him to turn back, though he wasn't willing to fully face away from his escape route.

“Wait! I’m not here to hurt you or anything...” Squinting towards the source of the wavering voice, he made out the form of a person. A small person. Probably shorter than himself. For some reason he stayed put, though he remained just as tense.

It was cold. That thought seemed somehow overpowering, rendering him rather dull and unwilling to move. The person approached with halting steps. Constant glances behind and around, clad in clothes not much thicker but much more whole than his. Everything seemed a bit surreal right then. He didn't think he'd ever seen someone with white hair before.

He watched with tired eyes as they held out some sort of bundle. Making no move to take it, he narrowed his eyes in a suspicious stare at the figure in front of him. To take something without knowing the person or object didn't sit right in his mind. They shifted uneasily, unable to meet his eyes for very long at once.

“It’s a blanket,” they started, a certain quality to their voice that he figured must be nervousness. With renewed determination they raised their gaze to meet his. Perhaps exhaustion was clouding his judgement, but the look they gave him was as earnest as they got. He looked them up and down before he sat back with the intent to accept.

He wasn’t sure why he trusted the snow-haired person in that moment, when he felt so vulnerable. Figuring out once it nearly slipped from his outstretched hand that he would be unable to correctly position the blanket with his frozen fingers, they frowned and knelt to help. He stiffened at the proximity but allowed it for reasons unknown to himself. Maybe he was that desperate.

"Oh... You're hurt." The soft words made him realize his eyes had drifted off to the side. When he looked back he was met with a light frown, though he wasn't sure what the cause was. Their fingers brushed over his wound in an oddly gentle fashion—he flinched a bit at the contact. "I'll... Be right back, stay here."

He watched their rust-colored shirt until they rounded a corner, wondered if they really would come back or if they came to some realization. With his limited mobility they hadn't even had to order him to stay still, as he wouldn't have made it far anyway. Without realizing it his eyes slipped shut once more.

This time he was woken by a light tap on his shoulder. He jerked away and around, wide eyes taking a moment to focus on the person in front of him. His reaction had seemed to startle them a bit too. They recovered quicker, though, and held up what they'd retrieved: what looked like a metal cup full of water along with a strip of gauze.

"Can't have you getting my blanket all bloody, can I?" He gave a faint snort at the amusement clear in their tone. They took that as permission and set about cleaning his wound. While they worked he kept a loose eye on them, still wary of someone so close to him. It confused him more than he'd ever admit that someone actually wanted to help a stranger. For no reason. The cup made a soft clink against the ground, an interruption to his wandering thoughts.

"...Now for this. It's all I could find, but it should work." Time had lent them more confidence. They appeared to have relaxed a good deal, no longer peeking over their shoulder every few seconds. After they'd finished with the gauze they tucked the blanket over him a bit hastily.

“That should do it,” they breathed, voice full of relief. “Keep that with you, it’ll make nights easier.”

“...Thanks,” he mumbled in response, still with a careful watch on them as he felt the warmth begin to gather around him. “But now I owe you.”

“Not really. But if you must have someone to repay, my name is Riven,” she replied, voice accompanied by a tentative smile. Soon after, she stood and looked him over once more. With a small nod she turned and walked back towards where she’d come from.

How strange, he thought, that someone he knew nothing of had offered such assistance. Any reason for it escaped him. Head again leaned against the boxes, he found that his only complaint was the similarity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't written in so long, this is an adventure (ignore how dramatic my first drafts always are)


	3. Life Goes On

The gifted blanket proved useful in cold nights to come, even if it was unquestionable proof that he owed a debt. Without a doubt it made his life that little bit easier and so it stayed with him.  
  
It didn't take long for him to discover that the "sewers" underneath the city went much further than he or Kavyn had ever gone. Exploring these hidden areas became a large part of his life for years to come. Musty corridors and cramped tunnels, sudden drops and minimal lighting; he wouldn't quite consider the labyrinth a home, but he grew increasingly familiar with it.

There were a lot of people inhabiting the underground. They varied in age and appearance and disposition, with a tendency towards solitude but some forming like-minded groups. Interaction with others was unavoidable. However, encounters were often limited to wary, appraising stares, though occasionally someone would ask a favor.

“‘ey,” came a cracked voice from the dark, halting his footsteps. “I've got coin if ya got a bit a’ water.” A thin woman was sagging against a wall, holding a dull coin in an outstretched palm. He eyed it warily, wondering what weapons were concealed among her baggy clothes—even with the only source of light being a small fire meters away, he’d seen something gleam. Certainly her coins were too filthy for that.

Without a word he nodded. Giving up his own resources was not preferable but he would rather not risk a fight, tired as he was. If she did have a weapon a trade was better than a blade in his back. Flashing him a small, pleased smirk she placed the coin on the ground and pushed it toward him with her foot. He passed a pouch of water to her the same way. While he waited he brought his acquisition to his face, trying to determine what it was but unwilling to remove all of his attention from the woman; tilting it towards the fire revealed a grey color beneath the grime. Knowing he would find out little more he tucked it away and returned his gaze to the other person.

After drinking the contents in a rather greedy and noisy fashion she tossed the pouch back. It had been a lucky steal he'd had days ago, something he'd very much rather keep and keep near him at that; the sentiment was likely well understood. A quick nod between them was their farewell.

And so a year passed. Such deals were uncommon and chance, only accepted when he would gain something useful. People underground weren't friendly by any stretch of the imagination, but had things they needed themselves. Sometimes trades were the only means of accessing such things.

He spent most days aboveground. There were few resources available beneath the streets, with more benefit and less loss above anyway. Over time he began to improve his skills in various things, including stealth, theft, escape, and—newer than the rest—killing. It was satisfying, in a way, to hide out of sight of a pursuer before striking. More than anything though it was simply a method of survival.

Before long he'd garnered a certain reputation. Locals gave him a nickname—the shadow—as he continued to grow, though he knew that he had a very long way to go yet. It wasn't an actual name, but it was something to be known by.

At some point he discovered that he liked heights. They were strangely comfortable compared to other places and provided an excellent vantage point. Few enough people went on top of the buildings that they were usually safe. Safer than the streets, at least.

One day he’d managed to snag an apple from a vendor without being seen or heard. People with goods to sell tended to crowd the same areas, lining the edges, perhaps in an effort to discourage thieves. Each lost something every few days anyway. Due to hunger he hadn’t gone as far away from the plaza as usual, instead opting for a wall he knew was crumbling in a way that was still scalable.

From there he made his way to a low wall looking over an alley a few blocks from the merchants. Before he’d fully sat down the apple was already at his mouth. No matter the time you had to keep your guard up, so he leaned against the wall and kept careful watch of his surroundings while he ate.

Voices could be heard in the distance, a result of the large crowd haggling for prices. After a short time two grew louder and more distinct, evidently much closer, followed by echoing footsteps. He shifted forward a bit to look beyond the wall.

Two young people, judging by their height and sound, rounded the corner. They were shoving each other amid loud conversation. He narrowed his eyes, not liking all the noise they were making. With a small, inaudible snort he stood, having finished his meal. Before he got far, however, the sound of a certain name stopped him in his tracks.

Blinking a few times, he turned back around and listened in with more intent. It wasn’t a pressing issue, but he wasn’t fond of the idea of leaving a debt unpaid, and the sooner that was resolved the better.

“...Yeah, she’s pretty tough, ain’t she? Much rather have ‘er deal with Stradson ‘n me,” came one voice, muddled with laughter. The other let out an obnoxious noise of agreement. Without another word their topic switched yet again, leaving him with frustratingly little.

As he backed away he put some thought to what he'd heard. Who that was he had no idea; few names were exchanged, with competition and tension so plaguing every potential relationship. Asking around would be difficult. Manageable, he supposed, but still difficult.

 

It took a few weeks. He set the issue in his mind as low priority; managing day-to-day life and finding ways to continue on was vastly more important. There came a day where he snagged onto and followed the thread of voices down an alley, curious as to the owners. The last couple of days had been particularly hard, presenting no opportunities to get food, so he was attempting to track down any chances of a meal. Maybe the people talking had some coins or a small snack. This thought led him on.

As he approached he dropped low and pressed against the nearest wall. Rain-wettened grime soaked into his body where he was in contact with it, not that he minded after so long spent dealing with it. Carefully he peeked around the doorframe, catching sight of someone's back on top of a barrel.

The one on the barrel laughed near hysterically and clapped a stilted rhythm, urging on the man dancing towards the middle of the room. Both had clearly had too much to drink. Barrels littered the upper “floor”; the people seemed to have dragged one down the small set of stairs. They hadn't taken it far, leaving it near the bottom and right below the railing. To his right the wall consisted only of shelves packed full with bottles in various colors.

With a gesture he'd been practicing he tugged a dagger from his clothes into his hand, then advanced into the room when the dancer turned. Neither made any sign they noticed his movements, too absorbed in their own activities. He crouched near the short banister, prepared to leap over and down.

He was nearly ready to spring forward when he heard someone stomping towards the entrance he'd come from. Hurriedly he jerked backwards to hide behind one of the barrels scattered around.

“Hey!” An anger-tinted yell rounded the corner before its owner. Not wanting to risk revealing himself he refrained from looking, but he could take some guesses; it seemed as if the two from before had stumbled and gone silent. The newcomer’s footsteps had implied a large person, deep voice only adding to the effect. There was a heavy silence.

“Y-yeah?” Once amused, this voice had become meek. They seemed familiar with each other... Was this some group’s leader?

“You’ve run off from your duties _yet again!_ Need I remind you of what Stradson had done last time? Get back _now_ and maybe it won't be the same,” The newcomer boomed, followed only by stammers and hurried footsteps. He struggled to follow along with the words—fast and including some he hadn't heard before—but he got the idea. They had to have some relation to Stradson and thus Riven... If he tailed these people, would he finally find answers?

The newcomer lingered a moment, then huffed and left through the same door the other two had gone out. He waited for some distance before following. Outside the building was just as cool as inside, albeit damper. As they went he was careful to keep out of sight, though his target seemed rather distracted—in all likelihood due to anger. They traveled down several interlocking alleyways, passed through a square, and climbed through a ramshackle building—unrecognizable in its current state—before reaching their destination.

He wasn't sure if it was their base of operations, but the old orphanage was quite large. It might hide other activities, he supposed; it would explain some of the happenings around it that had caused his avoidance. With how desperate people were, especially children, many would trust the place no matter the warning signs.

The orphanage was in better condition than many buildings around, though the difference was slight. Not that that was saying much anyway. Most of the walls were intact, from what he could see. All windows were firmly boarded up, leaving no cracks to peek through. His target strode up a tiny set of crumbling stairs and jerked the door open; it groaned a short distance along the ground, but it was enough for him to catch sight of a gold-colored chain hanging from the wall.

As the door slammed shut he considered his options. Venturing inside might not be the best idea, as he had no idea who or how many people were waiting around there. There was no other way to figure out what was going on, though, so he decided to check for another entrance. Going through the front would leave him painfully exposed with all its noise, not to mention the fact that it was the most likely to be guarded.

Outside the orphanage was rather empty. No people in sight, a small fenced in area the only feature. All around the building was the same design. Creative and fancy architecture belonged on richer streets, he supposed. With a note of relief he found that inside the fence was a crooked door hanging on its hinges. He climbed the fence easily—chain-link with nothing dangerous surrounding, he was pleased to discover—and plopped down onto ground much the same as he had been on previously.

No sounds stuck out as abnormal, so he stepped over to the door. Even pressed against it he could hear nothing from inside. Maybe they were somewhere else? Cracking it open he tried to judge the room; it was small and cramped with benches, sets of ratty shoes and coats gathered in piles beside them. He slid inside in as quiet a movement as he could manage.

With a noiseless sigh he questioned himself. Everything about the situation screamed ‘risk’, one he wasn't sure he could afford or that would be worth it in the end. No small amount of frustration arose when he realized how much he wanted to rid himself of debt.

A hallway led out of the room, the only exit. Several doors lined the way with only one being open, made obvious by the light emanating near the end of the hall. He went towards it, keeping caution in mind. Through one door he passed on the left he could hear an angry voice, seeming to be attempting quiet. However long the admonishment lasted would be his time limit, but he was unwilling to risk being caught. See if she was there then leave.

Mercifully the floorboards remained silent. By the open doorway he paused to listen. A multitude of voices were chattering, higher in pitch than the person he'd heard before. Unsurprising to find children in an orphanage, but it meant that they were likely either exposed to or involved in whatever the group staying there was doing.

He called to mind what had been said about Riven. If she dealt with who he assumed was the boss, then yes, the children _had_ to be involved. Meaning they'd likely send up an alert if they saw him.

Letting out a silent huff of annoyance he shifted to glance around the doorframe. People were huddled in on themselves, torn blankets wrapped around thin shoulders. They seemed to have put as much distance as possible between each of them. The room was bare of furniture, only emptiness between bodies. A few flickering lanterns hung on the walls. Though small, they still served their purpose rather well.

Most had already laid down to sleep, leaving him free to glance around. In a corner to his left he spied what he was searching for; despite the dirt and low lighting the color was unmistakable. Riven had curled into herself, head buried in her knees and arms wrapped around. His eyes narrowed when he noticed her lack of blanket and shaking frame.

There was no chance of catching her attention without also grabbing everyone else’s. He couldn't afford to waste time either, so by impulse he threaded his way over to her. Near imperceptibly her eyes latched onto his movements. All of his belongings were kept with him at all times, so it was easy to untie the blanket and spread it over his arms. Leaning back against the wall near her he waited a moment.

Sure enough Riven unfolded a bit, straightening to where she could meet his gaze level. After a bit of staring at the blanket, an expression of disbelief etched across her features, she examined the rest of his body. With a raised eyebrow she looked up into his face.

“When I heard the rumors I hadn't expected _you_ , or that you would come here.” There was a note of amusement in her voice, somewhat hidden by lingering surprise. He snorted lightly at that and let one hand slip down to absentmindedly run his fingers along a damaged seam.

“Have to know you to repay you,” he said, hoping his meaning was taken. Words always escaped him when needed, with as little use for them as he had. At least he'd learned a decent amount from overheard conversations.

Riven smiled at that, a look of understanding flashing across her features. The expression made him tense without thinking; in his experience it was often worn by those who wanted something, perhaps meant to disguise their true intention or inspire false security. Then he thought back to when she'd given the blanket to him. She'd had one then, hadn't she? And Kavyn used to form them all the time.

Forcing himself to relax he balled the blanket up and extended it towards her. She blinked at it, then raised her hands, shaking them in time with her head.

“Ah, no, you keep it! It's more use to you than me…” This time Riven’s voice leaned more towards pleading. It confused him why she would want him to keep something that would obviously benefit her, though the notion was tempting no matter the reason. Still…

“Debt.” He forced the word out, unable to think of any other way to get his thoughts across. His own ineptitude was frustrating, but he knew no way to fix it. Pointedly he shoved the bundle closer to her.

“Uh,” Riven’s eyes slid down along with the sides of her mouth. He watched the change with a shard of curiosity, wondering why expressive people like her felt the need to arrange their faces in accordance with their emotions. For Riven it seemed just that, a way to show her feelings. Wouldn’t words suffice? She was good enough with them, from what he could tell. How much trouble would she have understanding him? He was skilled in neither, though it mattered little when you didn’t interact much with others.

Still, he could see the uses. He’d seen clever wording and presentation work to manipulate interactions before, sometimes to dodge consequences or prevent brawls, sometimes to get information or better deals.

“...How about we find a different way?” The words tugged him out of his thoughts. Riven seemed to lighten a bit, speaking at a quicker pace. “I can't think of something right now, so when I need help I’ll leave a big stone outside the gates. They won’t notice that, wouldn’t be important to them, but you’d know to look for it. You keep that with you until then, it'll be your proof of identity.”

At his owlish expression she grew more sheepish, threw him a small grin and repeated her plan slower. He almost protested but knew he’d spent too long there already. So with a nod he tucked the blanket away and stood, making his way to the door without looking back. There he paused a moment before continuing.

No other doors had been open and no new people inhabited the hall, much to his relief. As he passed by the one lit from underneath he again stopped to listen. Two people seemed to be arguing, one set of steps tracing back and forth. They were too muffled to hear had he even wanted to, so soon he'd gone forward and eased the exit closed behind him.

After scaling the fence he was in more familiar territory. Rather satisfied, he made his way to a “safe” spot to catch some rest of his own. Maybe it could be attributed to luck that he was a naturally light sleeper; deeper meant more unaware.

It was one of the more successful ventures he'd made. With time he was improving, but his abilities still left much to be desired. How many times had he fumbled and been noticed, or slipped up during a fight? At least he could take advantage of his size and age at times; people searching for vulnerable targets would approach him with an air of arrogance, not expecting the knife that would flash at them when they let their guard down. Becoming more well-known made that less likely, a fact that made him uneasy.

Most people in the area also dealt with a lack of experience and food, making most brawls messy yet short. He spent days working up his strength and flexibility, memorizing all the twists and turns of the area, in order to give himself as much of an advantage as possible. Others would pull whatever dirty tricks they were capable of. His own was a simple strategy: when the opponent proved too strong he would flee down an alley and disappear, waiting for their back to be exposed.

He had made it up to this point, and survival was all that mattered.


	4. 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well! it's been... a while since i updated this, ive had trouble sitting down to work on actual chapters. i used this for most of nano though so it's sitting at around 45k words right now. not all of it's linear and all the chapters are partially done in first drafts.... still not sure if i'm gonna upload those and edit later or do a bunch of heavy editing first. if i go with the first prepare for a LOT of messy phrasing and weird spacing, as the saying goes 'never remove any of your precious words during nano'. i did write out my chapter plans (which made me realize how damn long this would've gotten so i decided to separate it into two things, so no institute/lux/yasuo/etc in this one)

Each day he checked back at the gates to find no changes. As time passed he grew impatient, to where he considered re-entering to talk to her for clarification. Where was he to go once he saw the signal, anyway? The same room they’d made the plan inside?

He forced himself to wait until Riven had come to a decision. Weeks after their meeting he returned to find a large stone displaced a short distance from the gates, nondescript in color and surrounded by a thin clump of grass. No wonder it wouldn't be noticed unless searched for. That accounted for his cue, but not a meeting place…

As he thought he retreated a bit into a nearby alley, close enough to see the orphanage’s exit he assumed she would use. Had she left yet? Waiting outside was less risky anyway; if she didn't show up by sundown he'd go inside to search for her. Squinting up at the sky confirmed that it wouldn't be too long of a wait, as various shades of bright red and orange stretched overhead.

At least he'd been able to find food earlier, stolen from a careless merchant at the edge of the market. Must've been new to the district if his lack of precautions was any judge. It left him more open to cooperation with Riven, to not feel the intense pricks of hunger. Though having no idea what she would ask for made him suspicious.

Red and orange had mixed into purple and cast shade upon everything by the time she appeared. Several kids came and went, though none were recognizable and their reasons more obscure. One of the later was carrying a basket piled high with clothes in their arms, walking slow as to keep it from toppling over; when a shock of white peered around to check footing he realized who it was.

Her efforts to keep their meeting relatively secret made sense when he considered the shady people he'd come across. Better to go unnoticed than risk their ire while knowing nothing about their organization or resources. So he decided to stay hidden in the darkness thrown over the alleyway, and stood to stretch out the soreness gained from so long spent crouching there. Riven crossed over to the next street over; he looped through a narrow connection to block her way. She paused once she noticed him in front of her.

“Uh, sorry, but I need to—oh! It's you,” she said, voice gone from tight question to excitement. “I was just on my way, follow me.” Her face had already ducked back around as she went to continue, but he still nodded his confirmation. Little inclination towards talking on his part kept them in silence for a while, time he spent keeping track of their path and wondering on their destination.

“So... You do anything interesting today?” Riven questioned, apparently less fond of the quiet than himself. He gave a simple shrug as answer. “Fair. Not that much _to_ do. Today was an adventure for me, though. People couldn’t decide what to throw in, and I got bowled over twice.” Her voice was a mix between amused and annoyed. Instead of speaking he quirked an eyebrow in a gesture Kavyn had been fond of.

“But hey, least it’s over now,” she sighed out in one heavy breath. “I wouldn’t’ve been able to get all this done on my own, so. Thanks.” The grin she flashed in his direction forced his eyes back to the front. They were only going a few blocks, limiting efforts at conversation; soon the cramped streets opened up into a small circle around a well. It was watched over by those who owned the biggest building connected, who would chase away any they had not granted access. He’d watched it happen to someone desperate for a drink and had resolved to avoid the area since.

Riven walked past without even glancing at the well. She led him to their building, indicated by the sign hung overhead. It was held up by a weathered rope, what he assumed to be a title spelled out in faded blue letters. On ground level pillars taller than himself stretched from dirt to just under the sign. Between them rope had been strung in uneven layers, taut and wrapped around more times than he cared to count. It seemed as if she’d been there before; she approached with an assured air and knocked once without removing her hands from the basket. Almost immediately they got a reaction in the form of the door jerking open to where it strained several chains, a thin wrinkled face blocking them from seeing inside.

“Oh. You again. Same as usual?” The voice was just as strained and aged as its owner. At Riven’s nod they grunted and pulled back briefly to mutter something he couldn’t make out. “You know the price.” She handed a silver coin through the crack, swiped as soon as she reached out. Before they turned away he caught wary eyes giving him a once-over.

“Pay once to use this, once afterwards to leave stuff hung up,” Riven explained as they approached the well. It stuck less than an arm-length out of the ground, with no roof to speak of. Instead wooden planks were arranged as a cover tied by string, well-worn by time and elements both. She plopped the basket down on the ground and swung her arms around to loosen them back up. They worked together to tug everything off, left it propped against the side. Layers of stone covered in damp sludge extended past the reach of sunlight. Below surface level a metal rod stuck out, bucket hung on the end and rope wrapped around in loose loops.

When he reached for it he had to lean further than he wanted to, one hand braced against the wall. It didn’t help much as he slid a bit anyway. Retrieving the bucket itself also took a decent amount of effort, size affecting its weight. It left his fingers discolored, though he didn’t bother wiping them off as more was sure to get onto them. Placed on the edge of the well he could see how thick the sides were, as well as all the scratches and small dents decorating them.

“Time to fill it. Careful not to lose the rope,” Riven said from her place beside him. He nodded and checked its knot before throwing it over. Without a word they pulled at the rope together, all effort gone into getting it back up. It scraped against stone, complaining in loud tones the entire time. When at least they could reach for the handle and set it on solid ground they had both begun breathing heavy.

“I’ll… Never understand why it’s so deep,” she huffed from where she’d sat. He nodded in agreement, having dropped down on the other side of the bucket. Water filled it to the brim, not quite clear but as close as they’d get. With a groan she spilled her basket onto the ground beside.

“Can you take what I rinse to the lines over there? They need hung up, and it’ll be faster than me doing it all,” she asked, face gone to hopeful pleading. He nodded again as if it’d been obvious. And so she dunked each piece of clothing in the bucket one by one, cleaning them to the best of her ability, then handed them off to him. By the end a thick trail of droplets traced his path between the pillars and Riven. Sun had long since set, light shining through the owner’s windows their only help. As he returned she leant her whole body into a stretch, arms above her head.

“Feels so good to be done,” Riven sighed in relief. She stood to give him a proud grin. “Now we just need to pay the rest.” He rolled his own shoulders, glad to have it over with for his own reasons. Halfway to the door she started looking through pockets for the last coin. Once found she held it out in front of her face to be sure.

Unfortunately for them they did not notice the child even smaller than they themselves lurking behind the pillars until it was too late. They leapt out at the opportunity and snatched the coin, then sprinted opposite the direction of the orphanage. He had sprung after them before he put any thought to the situation. The chase didn’t last long; he’d been gaining on the younger thief when they tripped.

He slowed to a stop in front of the heap, snarl ready at his lips, and was greeted by a terrified face. They’d twisted to offer up the coin in the middle of one shaky palm. Satisfied that the matter had been dealt with quickly he swiped it and turned back around, listening close for any approach. Perhaps they’d learned their lesson, as they stayed lying there until he disappeared.

Riven came into view not far from their starting point, glancing anxiously around a split. She hesitated a moment before waving, relieved smile perched on her face. It seemed that she had tried to follow after them. Without a word he held out the coin for her to take.

“Thank you,” she said, sheepish but all the more genuine for it. “I’ll find some way to return the favor.” Even though he tried to wave it off she insisted.

They walked to the door together, and as they stood there in wait she seemed lost in thought. A wrinkled hand extended through the cracked-open door for a coin to be dropped into. The moment the deal was done, sealed by the door slammed in their faces, Riven turned to him with a sharp inhale.

“I know!” She didn’t offer any more in explanation before charging off. He stared a moment, figured there was little reason for her to spring a trap, and followed. They were heading back towards the orphanage, made quicker by their brisk pace—she hadn’t slowed a bit. With the barest glance back and gesture to stay put she jogged through the gate to vanish inside. Standing around the entrance was awkward but he was left little choice. Nobody seemed to be out there with them, though he watched to make sure none rounded either side.

She hadn’t been gone long, reemerging with a dark bundle held to her chest. Her steps were hurried with none too few glances around, door sidled shut behind. Rather than unlatch the gate Riven tossed her prize over the top of the fence. The effort took two tries due to the height, but soon he had it clasped in hand. He eyed her with a mix of suspicion and curiosity as he straightened it out—it’d come partially undone from its balled-up state.

Suspicion morphed into confusion when he realized what it was. She'd given him a shirt, one with fewer holes and thicker material than his own. It was also much larger, enough so that it would hang off his thin frame if worn. Thus far he'd been hard-pressed to find clothing, with only his current pieced-together outfit to show for it. He dragged his gaze back to her face and wondered what price she would demand.

“Yours now. He won't notice it missing; didn't even think to get it cleaned,” Riven announced, face shining despite the lack of moonlight. “You'll grow into it.”

He didn't think it an even trade, more of a hasty decision to erase her own debt due in part to what seemed an overly kind nature. Either way he accepted. They parted ways with a short nod on his part and a wave on hers. Without checking back he turned to walk away.

 

That night he decided to sleep aboveground. He made sure a few buildings separated his resting place from the orphanage, unwilling to risk being found. His choice was technically inhabited, but with no entrance to the rooftop there was little risk of being discovered. He’d hardly slumped against the parapet when he slipped into dreamless sleep. A few hours’ rest proved sufficient; he woke well before sunrise. Drifting in and out of wakefulness, eventually restless energy prodded him to his feet.

An early start wasn’t bad all things considered, though he often preferred to be active during the night. He climbed over the low wall, same window frames providing handholds as the previous night. Hoping to find an easy target in the form of tired drunks he made his way towards the nearest bar. Those people, in his experience, were more focused on their sickness and getting to safety than keeping track of their belongings.

The nightlife in his most frequented section aboveground was nothing if not vibrant. Lanterns and stuttering signs lit up several of the streets from dusk till near-dawn, pointing out flaws in pavement and brick as if to paint themselves as safe havens in comparison. People flocked to bars and let their shout-songs spill out the doors. Merriment dwindled as the night wore on, crumbled back to despondent acceptance soon enough. Towards the end—when he’d woken—most had already drank their fill and gone home, but some remained until forced to stumble away.

It ended up being even easier than expected. Someone had passed out not a block from where he assumed they’d left from, loud snores permeating the air. His approach was wary but unwarranted as his light pat-down garnered no response. Soon enough he was in possession of a very small amount of coin, though he was glad for it all the same. People didn’t tend to have much money and when they did it was well-hidden. Barring nobles who didn’t know what to expect and those who had just wasted everything on drink, of course.

He’d get little else done aboveground for the moment. Numerous thefts notwithstanding, his appearance and awkward speech tended to make shopkeepers suspicious to where they wouldn’t always sell to him. Thus he dealt most business underground; people were happy enough to accept his money there, their own acquired in similarly dubious ways.

Through the months he’d begun to get acquainted with those who hung around consistently. Never would he consider him friendly with them or vice versa, but each recognized each other’s faces and how best to get what they wanted. It didn't take long to find one he'd traded with before and with them a meal.

Almost aimless he wandered the streets for a short while, in want of something to do now that he'd taken the edge off of his hunger. At the end of it he found no outlet for his energy and so he returned to where he’d spent the previous night. He didn’t put much thought into why he did so, beyond that it was relatively safe as a change of pace. A few more days slept aboveground wouldn’t hurt anyway.  


 

The next day he’d been lounging on that very same rooftop when frantic footsteps raced into the alley below. Sounds of someone pushing around garbage further caught his attention, and after a short time he decided to peek over in curiosity. The sight of a pale shock of hair atop a bent over figure startled him to full attention. He twisted around to better face her, leaned over the edge for a better look.

“Riven?” His questioning voice bounced between the walls around her. She startled and straightened at once, head whipping around in alarm. After a moment she thought to look up. It took a good bit of staring for her to recognize his question, dumbfounded expression fading into realization.

“Oh, uh, yeah. It’s me. What’re you doing up there?” Riven asked in equally confused tones. One hand lifted absentmindedly to swipe at her forehead, leaving dark smudges in its wake.

“...Sitting. You?”

“Well, it’s—I—” She cut herself off with a frustrated sigh. “I was sent to get a ring, put it in my pack, but outside the gate I checked for it and it wasn’t there and now I don’t know where it _is_ and—” At first each word was clear in its enunciation, but her pacing was overtaken by panic. Fists clenched and unclenched at her sides as if an outlet for her anxiety.

“Hm.” A strange urge to go down pulled at him. There was no reason to help her; loyalty was a concept best abandoned and their ‘relationship’ had ended along with their deal, yet the impulse stubbornly remained. He closed his eyes for a brief moment. Then he swung himself over the parapet, reasoning to himself that they could still offer mutual aide to each other in the future.

He didn’t see Riven’s expression until he turned to jump the last couple feet or so. She hadn’t moved from where she stood, though she’d straightened to fix him with a confused stare.

“...You won’t find it on your own,” he said, an attempt for nonchalance. Through the corner of his eyes he saw realization dawn on Riven’s face in the form of a growing smile—something he tried to ignore for the moment. Evidently she was aware what he was offering.

“It’s, uh, it’s thin and gold. There’s a round red rock in the middle. I have no idea where I dropped it but I’ve already checked around the orphanage,” Riven’s words tripped over each other, whether due to nerves or excitement at the prospect of help he didn’t know. “The maker’s house is down this way, pretty straight left after a turn a couple corners down...” One hand had lifted to the back of her neck as she glanced back over the ground she’d uncovered. Probably left smears all over it too, not that he could see. With a simple nod he walked the way she’d pointed, focused on the ground around his feet. He’d search further along the route, but best to keep an eye out on the way.

Once he reached the corner Riven mentioned he slowed to a stop. Where he was could be considered more of a road, though it wasn't much wider than the alley he still stood in. It seemed a likely place for something to slip out, if she jogged around it in a hurry. She’d come from the left, so it would’ve flown towards the right. Maybe.

If anything he was glad there wasn’t much around. No sewer grates either, so there weren’t many places for a ring to get buried. He crouched down next to the sidewalk and began his search. Best to limit his area to right around the bend. Thorough over all the cracks and holes, he checked over the opposite sidewalk before moving on to the street.

He'd grown a bit frustrated by the time he reached the other sidewalk. Sunlight beating down from directly above didn't help his mood at all. Something so small as a ring could take hours upon hours to find, a fact he hadn't considered before his offer to help.

Before he could think long on bailing a faint glimmer caught his eye. Hurriedly knelt by the sidewalk’s lip, he spent a couple more minutes scouring the accumulated dirt for what he'd seen. At last his fingers found a solid object.

Lifted into better lighting it remained unimpressive. Even clearing away the majority of the grime revealed nothing fancy or special; a plain golden band with a tiny stone, flat and unremarkable. Still, it meant his part was over with. With the slightest of sighs he stood and turned back towards where he came from.

Riven had progressed significantly further down the alley. On her knees and bent to examine the underside of a propped up crate, she barely noticed his approach. When she did catch sight of him her head whipped around, one eyebrow raised in expectation.

“I found it,” he started, one hand lifted up. Her face lit up and she scrambled to her feet, forestalling any other words. Riven was in front of him in mere seconds, prying open loose fingers to ensure the truth. She relaxed all at once at her confirmation.

“Thank you,” she whispered, simple yet fit to spill with relief. In place of an audible response he gave an awkward shrug. Shoving the ring into her own hands he paced backwards a couple steps, uncomfortable with their proximity. Riven watched him a moment longer as she gathered herself.

“I’ll go get this to him, then.” When she tucked it away she made sure to tie the strings as tight as they’d go. “See you soon?” Her voice held a hint of teasing, as if telling a joke only they would understand. He nodded, aware of the loop they’d taken. As soon as she’d gotten a response she darted off. Whoever had tasked her with the ring’s retrieval likely hadn’t expected it to take very long, so he assumed she wanted to get back as fast as possible.

He watched her back until she disappeared from sight. Then he rolled his shoulders and prepared to get through his own day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ive actually had this chapter on here as a draft for weeks but kept putting off actually posting it :')


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